


Masks

by FarishtaFyre



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canonical Character Death, Dimitri is sorta like Batman?, Guns, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Introspection, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Panic Attacks, Rumination, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Suicide Attempt, Superheroes, Vigilante AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29570907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarishtaFyre/pseuds/FarishtaFyre
Summary: Dimitri is an undercover vigilante protecting Faerghus while maintaining his daytime career as the CEO of Blaiddyd House. He fights crime as the Blue Lion. By his side are his closest allies--the Lone Wolf, the Philanderer, the Lady Knight, and the Staunch Shield. When a new vigilante makes a surprise appearance, Dimitri and his friends try to stop the masked archer's reckless behavior only to become embroiled in a scheme bigger than they imagined.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	Masks

**Author's Note:**

> Gah...this is my first attempt back at writing after a few months. I wanted to challenge myself with a "short" story (aka a one-shot). I've always liked the ideas of superheroes. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I would love any constructive feedback on how to better pace scenes in a one-shot and any other feedback. But still--hope ya enjoy!

The welcoming and open-concept entrance that showcased a few signature pieces from the prodigious artist Ignatz Victor did little to attract Dimitri’s attention. Even as he was greeted with a whiff of a blend of sweet grass, sage, lavender and citrus—he didn’t lose his focus at the task on hand. The task at hand was obvious: watching the people and security around the famous _Saint Cethleann_ painting. Dimitri knew very little about the artist other than that he was the famous rags-to-riches story that attracted so many people: born to merchants but defied his birth status by using his impeccable talent at art to break the shackles of poverty. There was certainly a sense of respect for that type of initiative. But Dmitri knew better. He knew the world wasn’t a fairy tale: it was an ugly, disfigured monster that tried to pass itself off as a fable.

After all, that’s what Dimitri was. The magazines called him “Prince Charming.” He was, after all, the CEO of the Blaiddyd House—a multinational powerhouse with over a dozen corporate branches and subsidiaries. If he remembered Sylvain’s bemoaning from a few nights ago, Dimitri had allegedly won the title “Most Eligible Bachelor in Fodlan” for some trashy gossip magazine. Like the disguise that life wore—Dimitri was a monster on the inside. He wasn’t sure _how_ he had convinced the world that he was a dashing prince. But as his father had once taught him— _Carpe Diem_. He had to make the most of the present time. So if he used the convenient costume handed to him by society to shield his disfigured self—his father would be proud, right?

Dimitri smirked to himself as he wondered how the news outlets and magazines would respond if they knew the _real_ Dimitri. What if they knew him as the _boar_ that Felix knew? He would surely lose the gallant “Prince Charming” moniker in a heartbeat. In a society where the most popular celebrities lost their career due to hostile political views—Dimitri guessed that his social banishment would be along that similar path. The idea of the same socialites fawning over him gasping in horror as he crushed the skull of a lowly grunt with his bare hands did amuse Dimitri. No one understood that the violence—the bloodshed—the destruction—they all were the only way to silence the dead. And that’s all Dimitri wanted: to silence the dead that constantly haunted him.

To the tabloids, he seemed aloof, but he knew that it had been exactly nine years and twenty-two days since the massacre. The news called it _The Tragedy of Duscur_. The true tragedy was not only how a young 13-year-old boy lost his entire family that day—but it was how the world revealed its ugly face. The blame was put on a group of marginalized farmers in Duscur. Despite Dimitri’s pleas—no one listened to him. The world wanted to continue its false narrative that good triumphed over evil. So, the people of Duscur suffered to serve the ego of the Faerghus land. The world only reveled in its ugliness. It stole the innocence and light from Felix Fraldarius. It robbed the love of Ingrid Galatea’s life. It ignored the abuse suffered by the ever-smiling Sylvain Gautier. And perhaps worst of all—it vilified Dedue Molinaro for simply existing. How could anyone ever convince Dimitri that this world was beautiful when the truth was that it was hideous. It was as hideous as he was that day he broke—the day a poor assailant tried to mug him on the streets of Fhirdiad. The bulky pale man was trying to follow the narrative that the strong had to trample the weak.

Dimitri had snapped when the robber tried to reach for his white scarf—the same one that his father wore in many winter pictures. Suddenly the man was pleading for mercy but Dimitri was too far gone—he broke the man’s nose, ribs, and probably other vital structures. That rush that Dimitri had felt—it was calming: the dead—the voices of his father, stepmother, and everyone else who had died in that massacre—that guilted him for being the _sole survivor_. What right did Dimitri have to live while they all had died? The only mark he had to physically show from that day was his damaged right eye. The eye-patch covered the scarred tissue. Sylvain, in feigned annoyance, pointed out how it only made the media find Dimitri more alluring.

_Boar. Stop fantasizing about your victims and focus._ A voice in his ear sparked Dimitri’s attention back to the present. Felix Hugo Fraldarius’s voice was blunt, cold, and robbed of any warmth when his older brother died. The earpiece, carefully hidden underneath Dimitri’s shoulder-length blond hair, crackled again when Ingrid Brandl Galatea’s voice broke through.

_Do you notice anything odd or suspicious, Dimitri?_ Ingrid’s voice wasn’t as cold or harsh as Felix’s voice. Still, Dimitri missed the sunny warmth that once possessed Ingrid’s voice—like her vibrant laughter after Glenn Fraldarius said a stupid joke. When Dimitri thought about it—he couldn’t remember the last time he heard Ingrid laugh like that. Sure, when they were in public, Ingrid maneuvered social situations better than Felix. And when countless suitors tried their lines on her, she had that polite chuckle that quickly preceded her retort.

“No.” Dimitri answered. “The guests are all pretty familiar in the Faerghus social ring. No one seems to be acting suspicious or odd.” It was true. Dimitri saw familiar faces—like the heiress Cassandra Charon or the gruff Gwendal ‘Gray Lion’ who worked at Rowe Enterprise. There were some friendlier faces, like Felix’s father Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius and Baron Dominic. The tip that they had received was that the _Saint Cethleann_ painting was to be procured and sold in the Abyssian Market.

_Well, I would love to help patrol the area too, but I got stuck on monitor dut_ y _. I’m sure I could easily spot a sketchy-looking lady._ Like the missing piece to a puzzle, Sylvain Jose Gautier’s voice jingled in Dimitri’s ear. The redhead was the best at making appearances: he fooled nearly everyone with his flirty demeanor and social gravity. Perhaps it was from the years of hiding the abuse he had faced at his older brother’s hand. Perhaps it was from the years of knowing that his parents _knew_ about Miklan Gautier’s abuse and did nothing to avoid tarnishing the perfectly constructed image of the Gautier family.

_Shut up, Sylvain._ Ingrid and Felix both groaned into the speaker. Dimitri could imagine them in his penthouse, huddling around the monitors and staring through the cameras at the art gallery. It worked out that the Fraldarius family was the founding family of the “Shield of Faerghus” security company. It allowed Felix (and his companions) full access to most of the security cameras in the entire state. Rodrigue had no idea what his son and his friends were up to, which Dimitri guessed was a good thing: the older man already had a lot on his plate. He had been Dimitri’s legal guardian until Dimitri turned 18. He also had been a regent for the Blaiddyd House until Dimitri was ready to take over (which, in all honesty, was never, if Dimitri was being honest). Felix and Rodrigue had been estranged since Glenn Fraldarius’s untimely death. Ingrid and Dimitri, however, remained loyal to the older man. Ingrid, in her own way of grieving, found Rodrigue to be like the father-in-law she was fated to have.

“Do you notice any suspicious people outside of the venue, Dedue?” Dimitri spoke into the speaker as discreetly as he could. Dedue Molinaro was a loyal worker at Blaiddyd House and unfortunately as much of a victim of The Tragedy of Duscur as the rest of the group. To Dimitri, Dedue was nearly flawless: he was strong, built, intelligent, observant, and diligent. The only flaw that people focused on, however, was his skin color which thereby suggested his home: Duscur.

_No._ Dedue’s answer was short.

_Dedue, my man, are you still down to cook tonight?_ Sylvain’s jovial voice buzzed in Dimitri’s ear. Even without turning on their mics, the sighs from Felix and Ingrid could be heard from Sylvain’s reception.

_We will see. Perhaps if the night remains quiet, we could go through another training session._ Dedue replied. As hard-faced as the man was, Dimitri knew that he was flattered that his cooking was admired. From the outside, people could argue that Ingrid was the “mother” of their group. The truth was that Dedue was the closest thing to that figure for all of them. Despite carrying his own trauma, Dedue was caring in the most subtle ways. He would cook the most delicious foods (not that Dimitri could really tell, given his lack of taste). He even stood up to the coldness from Ingrid and Felix after the Tragedy of Duscur—and accepted their apologies when they realized that their anger was misguided.

_Oh god, I’m still so sore. And not in the good way._ Sylvain groaned. Felix and Ingrid, however, quickly gave notes of affirmation to Dedue’s plan. If the night didn’t change, Dimitri guessed that it would end up being another night of training for the group. They told everyone the same lies—it was “movie night” or “a business meeting.” In reality, the five of them were masked vigilantes operating under the name _Blue Lions_. As Dimitri watched some woman at the art gallery catch everyone’s attention to formally present Ignatz Victor, his memories collided into him again as he recalled the birth of the _Blue Lions_.

* * *

It had started with Dimitri. After that fateful day of trashing the lowly thief, Dimitri found his calling. He started a membership at a private gym where he started to push himself as hard as he could. The media created the narrative that the young “prince” was “manning up” to take the helm of the company. No one knew that the adrenaline and muscle soreness were like a soothing embrace away from the harsh commands of the dead. Unsurprisingly, Felix was the first one to discover what Dimitri was doing. After maybe the third or fourth broken bandit appeared at the hospital, the rumors of the “Blue Lion” started to infect Faerghus.

Felix—with his odd obsession with swords and medieval weapons—was the one who put the pieces of the puzzle together. Dimitri supposed the cameras that were installed near the attacks belonged to the “Shield of Faerghus” company so Felix had access to them. Felix would never admit his interest in anything, as if afraid that the moment he showed interest in something that it would be taken from him. But Dimitri knew the child in Felix that loved solving mysteries. So it was unsurprising when Felix confronted him in his office and told him that he knew what Dimitri was doing. What was surprising, however, was when Felix asked to join Dimitri.

At first, Dimitri was against the idea. This was his crusade to clean up the infestation that had taken place in the world. This was his secret indulgence to silence those caustic voices. But Felix relented and essentially blackmailed Dimitri into letting him join. To Dimitri’s surprise (although it was obvious, looking back) Felix knew how to fight. He did get into fights back in school, sure, but fighting in the dark streets of Faerghus against thugs and thieves? Dimitri was impressed with Felix’s agility and precision. The sword did seem ostentatious at first, but it inspired Dimitri to use a weapon as well: a lance crafted for him that could spear through any foe he desired. It was like a hungry infant, craving more and more blood and tears.

If Dimitri had to guess who discovered his secret next, his bet would have been on Ingrid or Dedue. When _Sylvain Jose Gautier_ approached the Blue Lion and the Lone Wolf during one of their nightly excursions, the duo was surprised. They were even more surprised when Sylvain casually addressed their armored aliases as “Dimitri” and “Felix.” When the trio regrouped back at Dimitri’s penthouse, Sylvain revealed that Felix’s swordfighting and Dimitri’s aggression easily gave them away. He also revealed that someone in the board at Blaiddyd House was trying to petition that Dimitri was mentally unstable and thus unfit to take the helm of the company. Sylvain argued that his sweet-talking of the employee was enough to give him the information he needed to give Rodrigue to defend Dimitri’s reputation.

When Sylvain argued that the discovery of _Dimitri and Felix dressing up and fighting off criminals with medieval weapons would make life worse for everyone_ , Dimitri had to concede. It would be helpful to have a socially adept ally who could cover for the two socially inept vigilantes. When Dimitri later approached Sylvain about why he joined their crusade, a part of the mask cracked. Sylvain had looked away from Dimitri and whispered that nearly every night, he had prayed to Seiros that a superhero would save him from Miklan. When no one ever came, Sylvain realized that he had to step up and be the superhero he wanted to be. Before Dimitri could dissect that argument, Sylvain quickly turned the conversation back into his favor by complimenting how being “in-shape” could help his chances to get his dick wet at night.

Subsequently, the tales of the Blue Lion, Lone Wolf, and Philanderer spread across the land. The police force of Faerghus wasn’t happy about the involvement of the “illegal vigilantes.” It did not escape Felix’s attention, however, that the crime rate of the city was decreasing because of their work. The three childhood friends should have known better, however, than to keep a secret this large from their fourth companion. Ingrid, like the rest of the group, worked in a subsidiary of Blaiddyd House. While Felix would never admit it, Ingrid was the closest thing to a sister he had—especially after Glenn’s passing. Ingrid’s situation only motivated Dimitri’s urge to purge the world of its ugliness. She was beautiful, hard-working, intelligent, and strong. Yet because she was a woman and because her family had gone bankrupt—she was never given a chance to lead any type of company. Of the foursome, Ingrid had the best accomplishments. Yet the three other scions were given far more opportunities. Ingrid never openly complained, but Dimitri could sense it whenever a board member would ask Ingrid to get them a cup of coffee before a meeting _where she was presenting_.

Ingrid had noticed that the group had been hanging together—more than usual. Ingrid also confessed that Dimitri and Felix had somehow grown more tolerant to Sylvain’s callous behavior which also made her suspicious. Never to be the damsel in distress, Ingrid followed them one night before they suited up. To her horror, she watched from her hidden car as the Blue Lion marched with his spear from a dark alleyway. Behind him followed the Lone Wolf with his signature sharp blade and shield and the newly discovered Philanderer with his own signature lance. Dimitri, perhaps from his ingrained chivalry, had been against Ingrid joining their crusade. After all, she was a beautiful woman who deserved nothing of the best. Ingrid gently (but firmly) pointed out Dimitri’s subtle misogyny and proved in a spar against Sylvain and Felix that she knew enough martial arts to hold her own. Thus, Lady Knight joined the group on their next outing to patrol the land.

The group complemented each other well. Felix was strategic and observant. Sylvain was manipulative and charming. Ingrid was strong and determined—and drove the getaway car the fastest of the four of them. It was like she was flying when she drove and yet the car hardly ever showed anything more than a slight scratch here and there. Sylvain’s jokes about how women couldn’t drive were quickly discontinued.

The final addition to their group—the Staunch Shield who wore the costume of Dedue Molinaro in the daytime—was not completely unexpected. After a few nights of beating up thieves and traffickers—the armor and weapons that the Blue Lions used were starting to fall apart. When Dedue uncharacteristically interrupted an “important business meeting” between Dimitri, Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix—he offered his talents as a blacksmith and engineer. He had guessed what the group had been doing when Dimitri’s sleeping schedule mysterious got better despite being awake longer and how the four of them were nearly always starving after their workouts. Dedue’s knowledge of physiology helped as well when he gently reminded them to up their intake of protein after a night of training. And so, for the past year, Dimitri and his friends had been protecting the city. They each had their own reasons or motivations, but the ultimate truth was that they were happy to have each other. They could trust each other to watch their backs when chasing down a delinquent. It was like they were a well-oiled machine that was equipped to protect Faerghus.

* * *

“…and after returning home from college, Ignatz persuaded his family that he should become a painter. He spent the following year traveling through Fodlan and painting beautiful landscapes and captivating portraits of the world’s cultures. His unique style is sure to set the artistic paradigm for the next generation.” The gallery spokeswoman read from her notes as she introduced the man-of-the-hour. Dimitri clapped along with the rest of the crowd. His eye briefly caught Rodrigue’s attention as the two men shared a warm smile. Even in his tailored suit and designer shoes, Dimitri still felt like the lost little orphan to Rodrigue. It wasn’t as patronizing as it sounded—if anything, it was Dimitri’s only hope that he wasn’t completely inhumane or as beastly as he felt.

“T-Thank you!” Ignatz Victor walked to the podium. Immediately, Dimitri felt some pang of sympathy for the boy. Where Dimitri and his friends were fed etiquette and knowledge in social situations between meals, Ignatz was clearly out of his element here. The man was scrawny with large, rimmed glasses. His haircut seemed to only make the man look younger than he really was. “I-I am so honored to be here today to present my latest work. I never thought that I would make it this far but here I am. I have to thank my parents—”

“Hey, are these salads from the Victor Vegetable garden?” Some clearly drunk visitor guffawed in his circle of friends. Dimitri inhaled sharply as he watched the half-convincing confident façade that Ignatz had worn crumble to pieces. There were some giggles and patronizing “ssh’s” around the area, but the damage was already done. Despite Ignatz’s boisterous talent, the boy would always be reduced to his family’s business. It was the same, to different magnitudes, with all of his friends.

“I-I, uh, appreciate y-your interest in my family’s b-business…” Ignatz struggled to collect himself as photographers’ started taking pictures of him. Dimitri wasn’t a prophet, but he could already see the headlines subtly mocking the boy for his humble upbringing.

_Poor guy._ Ingrid’s voice sighed into the speaker. Dimitri adjusted his tie as he thought about saying something to support the man—after all, who could ignore the roar of the Blaiddyd heir? Before he could say anything, someone appeared by his side and handed a glass of champagne to him.

“Hey there, friend, could you hold my drink for a moment?” The unfamiliar man winked to Dimitri. The tawny brown skin glowed under the intentional lighting of the gallery. Dimitri was caught off-guard but quickly remembered his manners as he held out his hand to hold the glass. His curiosity piqued; Dimitri watched as the stranger performed his magic.

“Mr. Victor! Hey, Mr. Victor!” The man moved closer to the stage. The people parted around him, as if simultaneously horrified and impressed with his confidence. “I have to ask—can you share your secret with all of us? How can we call become as great as you in painting? Because to be frank, my artwork can be quite rubbish sometimes.” The not-so-subtle nudge to the audience about Ignatz Victor’s aptitude was refreshing. Dimitri had no idea who this man was, but his swagger across the gallery floor was the most entertainment he had thus far. The man seemed to stick out yet blend in so well. His curly hair seemed messy, but Dimitri noticed it was _intentionally_ messy—like the perfect balance of “I just rolled out of bed looking like this” and “I naturally look like this.” The other man’s golden suit certainly stood out from the boring backdrop of black-and-white tuxedoes. Yet the shape and style of the suit matched the delicate elegance of the pompous crowd. The way this mysterious man carried a dyad of an identity with him gently reminded Dimitri of him and his friends—after all, they were all wearing masks at night. Or were their faces in the daytime their real mask? 

“He probably painted vegetables!” Another drunk patron called out, prompting a blush from the young artist. The man in the golden suit frowned. Dimitri thought the curly-haired stranger was about to relent—after all, this level of social superiority was unbearable. The gallery spokeswoman was quickly pointing out the group of drunk guests—likely some affluent old men who would pay off the photographers to not print stories of their rude behavior tomorrow. Dimitri was sure he knew them, but he couldn’t care enough to even identify them.

“Hey, if you’re ever looking for a model to paint, you should hit me up.” The mysterious man finally turned away from the drunken distraction and winked at the bespectacled artist. “Clothed or nude, I’m a huge supporter of the arts.” With a click of his tongue, the man smugly walked back toward Dimitri. Dumbfounded by the man’s brazen confidence, Dimitri could only wordlessly hand back the glass of champagne as if awarding the man a trophy. The distraction proved to be successful as security escorted the drunken audience out of the gallery. It didn’t escape Dimitri’s notice that some of the widowed heiresses were suddenly approaching Mr. Victor with the prospect of painting them into something beautiful.

“You…that was incredible.” Dimitri conceded as he made eye contact with the other man. “Mr. Victor is lucky to have a friend like you.”

“Friend?” The man grinned. “I don’t even know him. I’m just here to support the arts. And if I get to compliment an up-and-coming artist while flaunting my own assets to humiliate some old bully—hey, that just seems like a win all over to me.”

“You are…certainly right.” Dimitri was at a loss for words.

_He’s annoying_. Ingrid’s voice buzzed in his ear.

_His ego is just as big as Sylvain’s._ Felix deadpanned.

_Honestly this guy is pretty good. And that’s coming from the master of social magic himself._ Sylvain chuckled.

_Who is he?_ Dedue’s voice of reason broke through Dimitri’s haze again. Clearing his throat, Dimitri extended his gloved hand for a formal handshake. He couldn’t bear to explain the bruises and cuts that he had sustained from his nightly activities. A formal glove seemed over-the-top, but it shut off any questions from nosy socialites. Unfortunately for Dimitri, the glove only seemed to attract the mysterious man’s attention.

“Oh, is your skin too good to touch mine?” The man smiled, bearing his bright green eyes as if reading Dimitri’s soul. “I didn’t actually catch your name. I suppose I should thank the man who held my champagne glass.”

“Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.” Dimitri recited his name as he had done countless times. The man’s eyes twinkled with some unreadable emotion as he shook Dimitri’s hand. The man wore multiple golden rings that felt cold against his warm hand. “And whose glass did I have the pleasure of holding tonight?”

“Claude von Riegan.” Claude introduced himself after a moment of hesitation. His smile never faltered, but Dimitri noticed his conviction to reveal his identity skipped a beat. Shuffling through his mind, Dimitri tried to identify if he knew of this mysterious man. Luckily, Ingrid beat him to the answer.

_Interesting. He’s set to take over his grandfather’s company. They’re pretty far from us in Leicester but his grandfather is the founder and CEO of the Reigan Alliance. They’re also a multinational entity, like Blaiddyd House._ Ingrid seemed to be reading off some newspaper or source that she had stumbled upon after searching the man’s name. Dimitri hummed for a moment as he processed that information.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. von Riegan.” Dimitri smiled. The man gave him another look before downing his entire champagne glass.

“I can say the same, Dimitri. If you don’t mind me, I’m going to take advantage of the free bar that the gallery has tonight.” Like a feather dancing across the wind, Claude slipped away and into the throngs of guests at the gallery. Dimitri pursed his lips as Felix bluntly reminded him to note down the security measures in place for the _Saint Cethleann_ painting. From what Dimitri could see, the painting was encased in a transparent but likely impenetrable case. The gallery, after all, had to protect the painting as much as it had to show it off. Dimitri looked around for the security guards and frowned when he noticed that they were noticeably absent.

_Maybe they’re dealing with the drunkards._ Felix’s cold voice seemed to read out the thoughts in Dimitri’s mind. Still, it left him with an uneasy feeling. It was easier to feel secure against theft when there were people paid to protect something. Even though Dimitri and his friends knew that the motivation of a thief could hardly be compared to the size of a private security detail. Dimitri’s eyes darted across the room: Mr. Victor was indulging some guests and most of the other social powerhouses were engaged in some type of conversation. The gallery employees were also fluttering around, likely trying to entice some of the drunker guests to open their wallets. Unsure as to why he suddenly felt a pang in his chest, Dimitri inwardly noted that the charming Claude von Riegan was nowhere to be found.

* * *

The sudden appearance of darkness throughout the gallery immediately drew Dimitri out of any rumination that he was about to embark upon. There were several loud shrieks and movement as the guests of the night grew anxious. Dimitri immediately pressed on the speaker against his ear and requested for his friends to figure out what was going on. It was highly unlike an affluent art gallery to lose power in the middle of a show. The weather wasn’t stormy. There weren’t any disrupting winds or storms around. Before Dimitri could utter his suspicions, they were confirmed when a group of masked robbers appeared from the shadows with guns.

_Atrocity_. Dimitri whispered the code-word into his speaker as he held up his hands alongside the guests of the event. He quickly tried to find Rodrigue’s vague form in the shadows but failed to do so, only heightening his own anxiety. Dimitri thought about pummeling the robbers with his own fists but it was too risky, especially with so many “innocent” people at the gallery. Sure, most of them were corrupt and selfish—but there were some good people, like Rodrigue.

After uttering the code word, Dimitri guessed that his team would break through the building in a minute or two. Still, every second felt like an eternity as the men circled the crowd.

“On your knees! All of you worthless swines!” The presumed leader of the group of thieves barked. “It looks like we came at the right time to steal the picture of the little lady and get some extra cash from these folks.” The rest of the group seemed to snicker as they held their guns. Some of them pointed the tip of their gun directly in the face of some of the younger guests, as if to threaten them to make a move. Dimitri noticed the eyes of one of the assailants watching him, as if ready to shoot the moment Dimitri tried to move.

“Now, I’ll only say this once. Open up your bank accounts and transfer your money to the account number 07262019. If I see any of you trying to make a call, then my boys have orders to shoot on sight. Come on now! Don’t be shy!” The gruff voice echoed throughout the dark hall. Dimitri feigned compliance as he withdrew his phone from his pocket and slowly unlocked it. He glanced at the man closest to him who was watching him like a wolf watched their prey. Dimitri guessed that he could disarm the man near him and use his gun as a weapon (as much as he loathed guns). But what about the rest of the guests—like Rodrigue or Ignatz? _And Claude_?

Glancing at the doorway, Dimitri was slowly typing as he tried to stall for as much time as possible. Unfortunately, the masked man near him seemed to notice his hesitation and shoved the gun under Dimitri’s chin.

“Don’t try anything smart, pretty boy. Just transfer the money and it’ll all be okay. No lions or shit coming to save you tonight.” The masked man chuckled, pushing his gun against Dimitri’s jaw as if to emphasize his point. Dimitri simply nodded and started to open his bank app. As expected, there was a clatter of motion that earned Dimitri the distraction he needed to punch the gun out of his face and disarm the man by him.

When Dimitri turned to his left, he expected to see the familiar masks of the Lone Wolf, Philanderer, Lady Knight, and Staunch Shield. To his horror, none of them were there. In their place, however, was an unrecognizable masked man. Dimitri wondered for a moment if this man was part of the bandits here. The masked man had gaudy antlers sticking out from his mask and a shimmering bow in his palm.

“Let them go and no one has to get hurt. You can walk away tonight.” The masked man yelled. The lead bandit laughed and made a motion with his hands that prompted all the bandits to point their guns toward the archer.

“Fine, you wanna do this the hard way? Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The masked archer smiled in the dimly lit gallery as he quickly docked an arrow. In a flash, the arrow was shot into the air. Dimitri was momentarily confused until he saw that the target of the missile wasn’t the bandits—it was aimed at a fire extinguisher. The punctured red stored-pressure extinguisher released nitrogen and other chemicals into the air which clouded the hardly visible area even more.

“Sorry for the smell, my lovely nobles.” The archer pulled a cape from his back to cover his face as he threw some glass vial toward the center of the crowd. Immediately, some type of gas released from the broken vial as it reacted with the nitrogen. Dimitri immediately gagged. The smell was nauseating. He had to hold his breath to resist the urge to vomit. Unfortunately, some of the higher-class guests had no qualms about vomiting on the floor of the gallery. Dimitri then noticed the intent behind that tactic: most of the masked men had released their guns from their grip to cover their noses and mouths. With a scary amount of agility, the archer started to shoot at the men. The arrows weren’t meant to be lethal, Dimitri noticed. They aimed mostly for the arms and legs of the bandits.

“What the _fuck_ is that awful smell?!” Sylvain’s familiar voice rang out through the crowd. With that reminder of the familiar, Dimitri’s heart swelled. His friends were here. Like clockwork, the other four members of the Blue Lions appeared from the entry. There was a momentary stand-off between the archer and the Lions before the lead bandit let out a thunderous yell.

“Shoot them! What are you all waiting for?! Fuck these snotty-faced brats!” The man picked up his own gun prepared to shoot blindly. Felix, with his stealthy agility, seemed to fly through the air with his blade that sliced through the gun and rendered it unusable. The leader gasped before Felix knocked him out with his elbow.

Ingrid, Sylvain, and Dedue seemed to have similar ease with apprehending the assailants. Dimitri was distracted when a gloved hand touched his shoulder. Looking up, Dimitri saw the masked archer with his antlers sticking out from his mask.

“Hey, you okay? Can you help me get these people out of here?” The archer didn’t give Dimitri much time to reply as he helped the archer usher out the rest of the guests and employees. It eased Dimitri’s anxiety when he saw Rodrigue and Ignatz among the people outside. Rodrigue quickly ran over to Dimitri to check-up on him, running his hands over Dimitri’s face.

“My boy…are you hurt?!” Rodrigue’s voice trembled. Dimitri shook his head wordlessly. He could hear the clatter of weapons and knew that the Blue Lions were making quick work of the bandits. Inwardly, Dimitri wondered how Rodrigue would react if he knew that his only surviving biological son was in there risking his life.

“I-I…I have to go.” Dimitri whispered to the older man as he let go of the tight embrace. Rodrigue seemed understanding, as if the trauma was resurfacing for Dimitri. In truth, the gunshots reminded Dimitri of that day. But he had become more equipped to ground himself when his anxiety shot through the roof. Running away, Dimitri found the spot where he hid his gear and weapon. It was time to suit-up.

* * *

“The guests are safe.” Sylvain spoke through the connected earpiece.

“The police are on their way.” Ingrid assured the group from her report.

“The main man got away. I blame the fucking archer. Who the fuck was he and why was he here?” Felix hissed into the speaker. Dimitri knew that the malice in the other man’s voice was more-or-less his own way of punishing himself. Felix had that habit whenever a mission didn’t work out the exact way he had hoped.

“The innocent people are safe.” Dedue commented. Dimitri sometimes wanted to throttle the bigger man and ask how he could call these corrupt elitists _innocent_. “We did all we can.”

“Regroup at the—”

“I have eyes on the leader.” Dimitri saw the large shape of the man running through the streets. His gait and panicked expression easily gave him away. Dimitri didn’t wait for the rest of his team as he started his sprint to pursue the bandit.

"No, no! This was not supposed to happen! The Blue Lions were supposed to be dead!” The man groaned aloud as he tried to call someone on his phone. Dimitri had to admit that the man managed to place his call quickly as he ran as fast as he could. Letting the man think he had a false sense of security, Dimitri waited around the corner to hear who the man was calling. The last comment he had made caught Dimitri’s attention.

“Look, the deal’s off! You lied to me! There was a sixth person there—some fucking freak with a bow and fucking arrow! You better come and get me _now_ or else I’ll tell everyone who the fuck was behind this!” The man yelled into the phone, his anxiety seeping into his huffing voice.

“What?! You can’t leave me here! I’ll fucking kill you!” The man yelled into the phone again. The other person on the line seemed to have disconnected the line as the man threw his phone to the ground. Dimitri finally decided to make his entrance.

“I care not for who you are.” Dimitri announced through his mask as the man stumbled back in fear. “But you will have to pay for your crimes.”

“N-No! Please! I’m not the one you want!” The man blubbered, lying as sweat trickled down his skin. He tripped over some stone as he fell back onto the pavement. Dimitri towered over him, lance in hand, ready to—

_Thwang._ Dimitri’s eye widened as an arrow shot past him and hit the man straight in the throat. Dimitri watched as the man started to bleed from the shock of being struck by the sharp arrowhead. Turning around, Dimitri growled when he saw the golden archer from before.

“Drop your weapon now. Who the hell are you and why are you here?!” Dimitri’s aggression didn’t seem to scare the archer who simply crossed his arms against his chest.

“It looks like I’m carrying the team here, Blue Lion.” The archer shook his head.

“Who. Are. You.” Dimitri hissed.

“Since you like nicknames so much, you can call me the Golden Deer.” The man pointed to the antlers on his mask, catching Dimitri off-guard by his almost child-like behavior.

“This is not a game! What you’re doing is dangerous. You could have gotten hurt or killed.” Dimitri finally loosened his grip on his lance. On one hand, he knew that the archer had saved many lives. But on the other hand—Dimitri knew that this was a dangerous profession, and he didn’t need any more people risking their lives. 

“I can say the same to you.” The Golden Deer retorted as sirens blared in the background. “I’m getting the vibe that the lions don’t like playing nice. Let’s just agree to stay out of each other’s way, m’kay?” The vigilante turned around and only then did Dimitri realize that the Golden Deer was holding the bandit’s cracked phone in his hand.

“Return the device to me!” Dimitri’s voice bellowed as he moved closer to the archer.

“It wasn’t yours to begin with,” the archer snickered, “and as _lovely_ as this conversation has been, I’m actually needed elsewhere.” Before Dimitri could try to apprehend the golden archer, the man shot an arrow up at some building. The “arrow” turned out to be a grappling hook that carried the archer up into the sky, as if he was an angel returning to the heavens.

“Blue Lion!” Sylvain’s voice reached Dimitri as he angrily stood over the corpse of the bandit. The Blue Lions surrounded Dimitri as he briefly summarized what had happened. When he mentioned that the Golden Deer stole the bandit’s phone, Felix scoffed and shook his head.

“So you’re saying that there was supposed to be someone out to kill us and they failed without us even knowing? And you let the weirdo with the arrows get away? How _stupid_ are—”

“Lone Wolf, it’s not Blue Lion’s fault.” Sylvain interjected.

“We need to return to the base before the police discover our location.” Dedue commented as he glanced at the dead body behind Dimitri. “Are there any identifying marks that would give you away on the body?”

“No, I didn’t even get the chance to take him down myself.” Dmitri sighed. “Let us return back to the penthouse. I think we all need a shower to rid ourselves of that acrid stench.”

“Hey, I think it was smart of the guy to do that.” Sylvain shrugged as Ingrid located their get-away vehicle. “He probably doesn’t like hand-to-hand combat since he uses a bow and stuff, but he knows how to fight from a distance.”

“Hmph. You’re not wrong.” Felix commented as Ingrid pulled up the coordinates of the car from her phone. Dimitri noticed that it, fortunately, wasn’t too far from the art gallery. Ingrid had parked it in a spot that would be hidden from cops and any guests. As the five vigilantes made their way back to the penthouse, two questions filled Dimitri’s head: Who was targeting the Blue Lions? Who was the Golden Deer?

Finally, a third question snuck up on Dimitri as he finally got his turn to shower. _What had happened to Claude von Riegan_?

* * *

The next few weeks passed without much commotion. As expected, the thieves were just sellswords who sold out their soul to the highest bidder. They did provide a name for their leader—Kostas. Unfortunately, nothing spectacular came up from his records. The phone call bugged Dimitri as he wondered about the safety of his friends. It wasn’t entirely clear _why_ the vigilante group was being targeted—but it made Dimitri uncomfortable to fight a battle against an invisible enemy. Dedue, true to his caring nature, asked the group to check-in with each other every now-and-then. Felix had scoffed at the idea, but Dimitri remembered smiling to himself when Felix had hunted down Sylvain in-person after the redhead missed his check-in.

The news had correctly named the golden archer—calling him his preferred moniker: “The Golden Deer.” Something about the vigilante’s carefree attitude bugged Dimitri. He and his friends were fighting to save the city. They were doing the dirty work so that no one else would. Yet, this flamboyant vigilante was seemingly making a spectacle of the idea of protecting a city. True to his word, the archer avoided the Blue Lions. Yet, even without a physical presence, Dimitri could feel the other man’s presence. He felt it when Dedue and Ingrid came back from a distress call and they were surprised to find the burglar apprehended and immobilized. Felix and Sylvain reported that the robbery they were supposed to be stopping downtown had already been stopped by the time they arrived. Felix had the misfortune of attracting the attention of some kids who tried to get pictures and autographs with the vigilantes. Sylvain only managed to be pulled away by the Lone Wolf when sirens blared in the background.

When Dimitri thought back to the night, he reassured himself that there were no casualties. Rodrigue was shaken, but the man was coping well. Dimitri had sent a package to Mr. Ignatz Victor and his family as a condolence for the trouble. Surprisingly, the artist had posted about it on his growingly popular social media page. It was small things that sometimes sparked some warmth in Dimitri’s chest although that feeling would deflate when he remembered his true nature: he was a monster just like the people he hunted.

That self-loathing only doubled when Dimitri saw that Claude von Riegan was doing okay. The tanned man was dazzling in photos during coffee runs or whatever mundane activities the rising businessman did. Dimitri couldn’t place his finger on _why_ the man sparked his interest. When Sylvain had jokingly asked Dimitri when the last time he got laid, the redhead got a set of glowers from the entire team that quickly silenced him. It wasn’t an invalid question, although Dimitri quickly discarded any _fantasy_ of something like that happening. Life wasn’t a fairy tale. Dimitri was a beast—and not the kind that would magically transform into a prince when shown kindness. Real life was too unkind to spare Dimitri that type of mercy.

Things had fallen back into their usual routine, more or less, over the week. The Golden Deer still danced in the shadows, his stealth simultaneously impressing and annoying Dimitri. How did the archer _always_ beat them to the scene of the crime?

“Maybe he has an insider on the police force.” Sylvain wondered aloud, chewing his lo mein loudly. Felix sighed wistfully as he ignored the dish at his seat. They had agreed to meet at Dimitri’s penthouse for an impromptu meeting about their mysterious…ally?

“That is possible.” Ingrid twirled some noodles with her fork lazily. “But why now? Where was he a year ago when Dimitri first started out?”

“I’m more interested in the vague call that the boar overheard.” Felix finally spoke up as he eyed the training dummy in the corner with more hunger than he displayed to his food. “If someone was trying to target us, they’re doing a piss poor job at it.”

“I have a companion who is training to work for the Faerghus Law Enforcement.” Dedue wiped his mouth as he finished chewing some of his chicken. “You might recall me mentioning him earlier—Ashe Ubert.”

“Isn’t he that cute freckled guy who can break into like anything?” Sylvain brightened as he recalled Dedue’s observations. Felix finally chose to disregard his dinner and picked up a training sword to hit at the dummy. Dimitri heard some creaking from the dummy, indicating that Felix was about to have finished off the sixth training dummy they had ordered.

“If you feel like you can talk to him without revealing too much, then that may be an appropriate step forward.” Dimitri sighed. “And, as always, if any of you start to feel like—”

“Dimitri, stop.” Ingrid shook her head. “You say this all the time. We _all_ know the risks. I just wish you would understand that you’re not alone. We _enjoy_ being out there with you.” There was a subsequent silence that was supposed to affirm Ingrid’s words. Dimitri knew that the blonde was sincere but the ghosts of the dead still nipped at him, pointing out each and every insecurity he had.

“I am…very lucky to have friends like you.” Dimitri quietly remarked. His blonde hair was tied back into a small ponytail which helped him ease into the “daytime mask” he wore as the Blaiddyd CEO. Everything was about masks: could it be possible that Ingrid and the others were only wearing a _mask_ that seemed to emulate friendship and companionship? What if that wasn’t the case underneath? Dimitri trusted them with his life—obviously—but there was always this gnawing feeling in his chest. What if they all would have been safer without him doing what he did? Why didn’t he try to discourage them more? Thankfully, nothing had happened but Dimitri still feared the day that any of his friends would join the coven of voices that haunted him every day.

“Hey. What’s the girl’s name? The one whose father uses a different name?” Felix panted as he wiped away some sweat from his brow.

“Annette! Sweet Annie Dominic!” Sylvain grinned as he leaned back in his chair. “You got the hots for her, Felix? She has a sweet voice—”

“Isn’t she a doctor or something?” Felix ignored Sylvain’s provocative comments. Dimitri thought a moment before shaking his head.

“I think you’re thinking of Mercedes von Martritz.” Dimitri thought of the sweet blonde physician that helped patch him up without any questions. She was the only doctor that Dimitri now trusted. There was always a knowing glint in her eyes, but she never said anything that would make Dimitri distrust her. Soon after the rest of his team joined his crusade, Dr. von Martritz found herself with five consistent patients. Lucky for them—she never asked any questions.

“The golden idiot has to get some scratches, right? What if we asked her to check the hospital records for anyone who matches that description?” Felix proposed.

“Well, there’s a few issues.” Ingrid pinched the bridge of her nose before exhaling. “Mercedes could lose her job for looking into charts that aren’t her own patients. There’s also the question of her wondering why we’re so interested in someone who might resemble the new vigilante around.”

“Hmph.” Felix looked away as he went back to whacking the training dummy with his sword. Dimitri ran a hand through his hair, the enigma of the vigilante itching at him.

“Is it possible that Dimitri has inspired someone else to take up arms?” Dedue finally broke the silence that had permeated around the room. His comment even prompted Felix to stop whacking the dummy.

“So you’re saying our lil lion cub has an admirer?” Sylvain teased.

“More or less.” Dedue suggested. “His interests do not seem to be against our interests. I think it is safe to say that he is not an immediate threat to any of us.”

“But we can’t just _not_ do anything about him!” Ingrid argued. “And if he’s inspired by Dimitri—then that makes it all the more serious for us to get him to stop before he does something reckless.”

“Okay, well, crazy idea here.” Sylvain finished the last of his dish before continuing with his point. “What if we actually try to work with him? This guy isn’t gonna stop, it seems. And as much as all of you might hate to admit it, this guy clearly knows his stuff. Bows aren’t really my thing but they’re his thing and he’s good enough to save all those gallery guests.”

“Sylvain.” Dimitri scoffed. “He could get hurt. We don’t know anything about him. All of us constantly train and work together. He’s alone.”

“But that’s on him!” Sylvain explained. “Look, I’m not fond of him doing what he does either. He should leave the job to us. But we can’t control him unless we literally tie him down or something.”

“Hmph. I agree with Sylvain. If the idiot gets himself killed, that’s not on us.” Felix added.

“But it is!” Dimitri groaned. “We knew what we were getting into. Does this archer know? The sheer fact that he’s alone shows—”

“No offense, Dimitri, but you’re not the best case for arguing that his solo career means that he’s an amateur.” Sylvain clicked his tongue against his cheek.

“But I _learned_ once you all joined me at the mantle.” Dimitri argued. “And I am _lucky_ to have all of you around me. But what happens if this vigilante gets hurt and no one is around to help him?”

“Maybe…that’s our job.” Dedue quietly remarked. “Sylvain is correct in saying that we cannot control this vigilante. But we can—”

“We’re not just going to let him go out there and do what he wants!” Dimitri slammed his fist against the table. Sylvain, Ingrid and Dedue jumped back slightly at the clanging of the silverware and plates. Felix dropped his sword and muttered something incoherent under his breath. Stunned at his reaction, Dimitri quietly excused himself to his room.

* * *

_They want him to die. They don’t care about you. They want him to join us in haunting you. It’ll be your fault all over again, Dimitri. All your fault._ The voices started to get louder and Dimitri huddled in his room. He couldn’t admit it to anyone but having a weighted blanket and a stuffed lion that his stepmother once gave him were among the things that grounded him.

“N-No…” Dimitri muttered. He covered his ears, as if hoping that the voices would stop berating him. He wanted to say that they were wrong—but they knew him—the _true him_.

_You’re a monster. You only carry pain and sorrow everywhere you go. Look what you did to us, Dimitri. You can’t even face us._ The voices continued to chant as tears spilled down Dimitri’s face. He wanted the pain to stop. He _needed_ the pain to stop. He held onto the stuffed lion as if he was at the edge of a cliff.

“D-Dimitri?” Ingrid’s voice came after a few knocks at the door. “Um, we’re leaving, okay? We can continue chatting another day. T-Thanks for having us over.” Dimitri held back a sob as he heard Ingrid leave.

_They’re leaving you. No one wants to be around you. A monster. A boar. A feral beast._

Time seemed to stop for Dimitri as he held back another strangled cry. He was tired of feeling weak and defenseless against these voices. Nothing he did ever silenced them forever. With a determined look coloring his features, Dimitri glanced at his back-up gear. It wasn’t scheduled for him to do a patrol tonight, but Dimitri guessed that the city could use an extra eye to monitor its safety. As he suited up, Dimitri stared at the starry sky outside his window. In the distant corner of the sky’s canvas, a shooting star seemed to glisten. Dimitri would have easily believed it as a child—but he knew that it was more likely to be some type of airplane flying at night. Still, the idea of a star falling—somehow that image resonated with Dimitri. After all, his life was carved out for him. He was the perfect son of the perfect man with the perfect second-wife and the perfect company. Yet somehow, this fairy tale became so twisted and dark that Dimitri fell from the sky and became the mangled beast he was today.

As he left through the fire-escape stairs, Dimitri thought back to his stuffed lion and wondered if he remembered to tuck it back into the comforter.

* * *

_Crack_. Dimitri finally felt some silence and relief as he broke the nose of the man at the edge of his fist. It was just his luck that his nightly patrol in Fhirdiad found a thief trying to mug a pregnant woman and her husband. As the couple ran to safety, Dimitri picked up his lance as he readied himself to knock-out the thief. A look of terror was clearly written in the eyes of the man but Dimitri knew that a beast like himself didn’t have to—

_Thwang._ A familiar noise flew past Dimitri as the assailant’s shoulder was suddenly struck with an arrow. Dimitri dropped the bleeding man to the floor and growled underneath his mask.

“Golden Deer.” Dimitri shook his head. The snicker that followed his call only aggravated him more.

“Ready and willing.” The man moved to stand in front of Dimitri, his grin wide. “You wanna call the ambulance for the guy or—”

“What are you doing?!” Dimitri grabbed the archer’s collar and brought him close as he snarled. “You’re selfish! You’re hurting the people who love you by doing this! What if something happens to you?!”

“Whoa! Calm down, Blue Lion!” Golden Deer yelled, pushing back against Dimitri’s armor and releasing himself from the bigger man’s grip. “What does it achieve, us yelling at each other here?”

“You know nothing about me or the other lions.” Dimitri growled. “We fight to cleanse this place of the vermin that have infested it. You dance around the battlefield like—”

“Oh, I dance around the battlefield? Normally, I would be flattered by such a comment.” Golden Deer scoffed. “But it’s funny because if I remember correctly—I’ve been nailing down the criminals before you and your merry band do.”

“Why are you doing this?” Dimitri narrowed his eyes through his facemask. “Your attitude clearly reflects that you have no idea what you’re doing.”

“You’re hilarious.” The Golden Deer’s smile hardly contained a hint of laughter. Dimitri moved closer, towering over the shorter man. Instead of cowering away, however, the masked man simply cocked his head.

“You really like looking at my face, don’t you? Is my face really that interesting?” The man’s comment caught Dimitri off-guard as he sputtered a response. The Golden Deer finally belted out some laughter as he turned around and typed something into his phone. “Look, Blue Lion, I sent in a tip to the force that there’s a bleeding man over here that needs medical attention. Unless you want the cops to be here while you—”

“You’re insufferable!” Dimitri finally yelled as he ran a hand through his hair. That only seemed to earn another peal of laughter from the Golden Deer.

“Not the worst thing I’ve been called.” The vigilante chuckled. “While this dance has been lovely, I must bid you adieu my Lion King. I have some snakes to hunt—you know, the kind that slither in the dark.” Dimitri was dumbfounded by the new nickname he received and the way that the vigilante’s body moved as he prepared to leave—so dumbfounded that it only took the sounds of sirens approaching to knock Dimitri out of his trance. Escaping to the shadows, Dimitri took a moment to collect himself. He withdrew his phone only to see a message from an unknown number. Something dawned upon Dimitri as he realized—this was his _alternate_ number that no one else besides the Lions knew about.

His hands trembled from the adrenaline of the previous encounter. Carefully, he removed his gauntlet so that he could open the text message. Interestingly, the blond vigilante found four video files attached. The thumbnails were dark, but Dimitri could make out a silhouette in each of the still images. Pressing the “play” button on the first one only cemented Dimitri’s worst fears.

It was Felix. His face was covered in cuts and bruises. One of his eyes had been punched hard enough to cause some swelling. Even though Dimitri could guess what the other three video files showed, he had to watch them. In the next video, the camera moved around Sylvain. The redhead was also unconscious. There was dried blood caked on his forehead. The third video file featured an unconscious Ingrid with a large bruise on her cheek as if someone had the audacity to slap her. Dedue was in the final file with his face similarly bloodied and cut. The sight of his friends and teammates tied up—unconscious—and injured like prompted a weird feeling for Dimitri. It was like he suddenly regained the ability to taste but it was only the taste of blood that spilled around his mouth.

Trying to collect his thoughts, Dimitri looked at the facts of the situation. The message had given no other indication as to what the sender wanted. It was as if the sender was dangling bait. They were all circus animals right now. The mysterious shadows of the dark were ringleaders, parading around their bravado by the injuries and humiliation of the Blue Lions. Was this the looming threat that had haunted them for weeks? Was this related to that subpar thief—Kostas—and his mysterious phone call?

Taking his time, Dimitri typed as fast as he could:

**Blue Lion:** Where are they?

After what seemed like an eternity despite only being a few minutes, someone from the mysterious number finally replied to Dimitri’s text.

**742624252** _ **:**_ You will bring a contract that transfers ownership of Blaiddyd House from you and its shares from your friends to me. The exchange will happen at the Itha Bridge tomorrow at 23:00. If you want to see your friends alive, tell no one.

Dimitri closed the message and shuddered. His worst fears had come true. Someone knew who he was. Someone knew who his friends were. Someone targeted his friends and now their lives were in danger because of Dimitri. It was all his fault. Like a familiar song replaying, the voices of the dead soon returned to haunt Dimitri. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling down his face as he ran deeper into the shadows of the alley.

Why was he crying?! He was Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd—the secret and infamous Blue Lion. Yet here he was, like how he was years and years ago, crying like a sniveling little boy. The voices of the dead were right: he only brought bad luck everywhere he went. He masqueraded as the tall, muscular behemoth that fought crime—but it was all an act to hide the fact that he was still that orphaned young boy mourning the loss of his childhood, his family, and his innocence.

Anxiety continued to hijack his body as the thought of telling Rodrigue appeared to him. He could only see the disappointment on Rodrigue’s face when Dimitri asked for the ownership papers to be filed. How could he explain to Rodrigue that despite the death of Glenn—Dimitri still allowed Felix to risk his life? That his once potential daughter-in-law was also risking her life? His son’s best friend was risking his life? All for the monster who bore the same shape as the vermin they sought to destroy.

The thought of Dedue also haunted Dimitri. It was _his_ fault that the man of Duscur had lost his honor and prestige. And any semblance of a normal life was now gone because of Dimitri. It was all his fault.

What if this wasn’t the end? What if the captor wanted more? What if his friends were already dead? It would all be Dimitri’s fault. He was selfish. Greedy. A monster. It was all his fault. The blood pounding in his ears sang the same song as his tortured heart, beating violently in his chest: _This is your fault. This is your fault. This is your fault._ Dimitri’s hands were shaking as if his body was moving on its own—his fingers and toes tingled with electricity. It was like the world was distorting around Dimitri—he was somehow moving but paralyzed at the same time. He was nauseous but ravenous. He wanted blood but he feared attention. Nothing was making sense. The only thing that seemed to translate through Dimitri’s mind were the same four words:

_This is your fault. This is your fault. This is your fault. This is your fault._

As he dug the tips of his gauntlets into his palm, Dimitri noticed that breathing was hard. It was like he had sprinted across the entire city of Fhirdiad. Dimitri glanced at the lance that he had sheathed by his side. How would it feel if he impaled himself upon it? Would he feel the same shearing pain that all the dead felt when they died? Would that finally absolve him of the guilt and weight that he had to carry upon his shoulders? Would it exonerate him just enough for Seiros to accept him into a peaceful afterlife?

_Where’s my weapon?! Damn it! I can’t see…anything. You killed me, you stupid fucking boar._ Blood. A broken sword. A grieving father.

_Heh, I’m not afraid. I figured it would end like this…all because I followed your path, Dimitri._ Blood. A broken lance. A roaring horse. 

_Glenn…I’ll see you soon. Death isn’t sad, not…really. We have Dimitri to thank for reuniting us._ Blood. A broken lance. A slaughtered Pegasus. 

_Ngh. Apologies, Dimitri. I can go no further. I suppose it’s only you that must survive us all…_ Blood. A broken shield. Broken armor.

_Y_ _ou deserve it. Taste it. Taste the sharp tongue of the lance._ The voices teased Dimitri like rowdy schoolchildren. Without any further hesitation, Dimitri unsheathed his lance, muttered a small prayer, and ran it through his abdomen.

* * *

“H-His vitals look okay.” A soft voice ushered Dimitri’s consciousness. Was that the voice of an angel? It was soft, innocent, and pure. Was Dimitri on a cloud, floating in the afterlife? The cloud was admittedly comfortable. Would he see his father here? His stepmother? Glenn?

“Yay, nice job!” A sprightly voice pierced through Dimitri’s senses. That voice didn’t sound nearly as angelic or as tranquil as the previous voice. Perhaps Seiros had multiple types of deities around her. Perhaps that was Seiros’s real voice—after all, no one probably actually knew what she sounded like. “I’ll tell the Deer!”

_The Deer._

_The Golden Deer?!_

“Oh, he’s okay?” An achingly familiar voice danced around Dimitri like the wind around a campfire. “Thank whatever spirits out there that he only pierced through like half of his liver.”

“I-It still was a pretty bad wound…” The angelic voice returned. “S-Stab wounds of the liver…are relatively, um, benign. There were not any, um, juxtahepatic venous injuries. So it wasn’t too bad but…maybe I could have…”

“Hey, but we got you around. The best doctor around. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your knowledge and skills, Blue.” The achingly familiar voice seemed to call out to Dimitri—embracing him in a warm, soothing hug. “Pink, can you go check your brother’s radar to see if any new things are popping up? We gotta kill time before our guest wakes up.”

“Why do you get a cool name while we get Pink and Blue? That’s sooooooo ugly.” The sprightly voice from earlier pouted. Dimitri grunted, the pitch of the feminine voice bothering him. He tried moving his fingers and toes—they felt like a dead battery.

“Hey, I—”

“U-Um…he might be waking up.”

“What?!” Pink and The Golden Deer exclaimed as they huddled around Dimitri. Opening his eye, Dimitri was surprised to find himself in…an apartment building? It was a nice one, sure. But if this was the afterlife then it was far different from—

“You’re alive! Thank goodness!” The Golden Deer embraced the bigger man’s upper body. Something about the curls in the vigilante’s hair seemed familiar, but Dimitri couldn’t put his finger on _why_ it looked familiar. “You did great, Blue. You’re quite literally a lifesaver.”

“I-I tried my best…”

“T-Thank you…” Dimitri muttered. His voice felt really raspy and his head was pounding. “What…is this…”

“You’re, uh, at Hil—Pink’s apartment.” The Golden Deer moved away from Dimitri as if to process an answer. “We found you, uh, bleeding half-to-death in an alleyway.”

“Yeah, he’s lucky I distracted the EMT before they could take him away.” Pink whined.

“Wait…” Dimitri still felt disoriented. “I’m not…dead?”

“Nope!” The Golden Deer jumped onto a nearby chair. “My friend over here, Mar—Blue, sorry, helped put you back together.”

“…why?” Dimitri’s voice was so soft that he almost wondered if he had said it out loud. The atmosphere of the room changed immediately. While Dimitri couldn’t _see_ exactly what was going on, he could feel that the two other people in the room—Pink and Blue—were whispering to each other.

“Are you seriously asking us why we stitched back together The Blue Lion?” The Golden Deer broke through his shock and chuckled. “Maybe you hit your head harder than we thought.”

“I…I don’t deserve to be alive.” Dimitri whispered as if speaking to himself. “It’s…it’s my fault that they’re gone.”

“Wait, who’s gone?!” The Golden Deer brought his chair closer to Dimitri. It was only then that Dimitri moved his sore arm to feel the familiar facemask still held together. “Oh, yeah, out of respect, we didn’t unmask you. Pink really wanted to—”

“Hey!”

“But we decided that we wouldn’t want someone to unmask us while we were like half-dead so…” The Golden Deer trailed off. “Wait, you were talking about someone being gone. Who were you talking about?”

“…My friends.” Dimitri swallowed thickly. “They’re…my phone…please.” It hurt to move around but Dimitri tried to look around for the encrypted device. Finally, it was handed to him by someone with manicured and painted nails. Was someone chewing gum loudly?

“Someone…has them.” Dimitri struggled to unlock his phone as his fingers didn’t want to cooperate with him. “They…know who I…am…”

“Oh sheesh.” The Golden Deer exhaled sharply. “This isn’t good. Are they demanding some type of ransom?”

“Yes.” Dimitri answered, giving up on unlocking his phone. He decided to close his eyes as he laid back against whatever he was resting on. Was it a sofa? The pillow felt feathery and comfortable. Briefly, Dimitri noticed that it was pink and glittery. Were those sequins?

“Look, you don’t have to tell us who you are.” The Golden Deer sighed. “I understand why we have to wear these masks. But…to help you, we might have to see those messages.”

“I…there’s four videos.” Dimitri choked. “Dark. Injured. Without masks.”

“Wait!” The high-pitched voice that Dimitri identified as “Pink” cried. “Cl—Deer boy, I think this is it!”

“You think so?!”

“The message we intercepted was about The Blue Lions.” Pink explained as she smacked her lips together. “From the night of the art gallery snafu, you know?”

“…What?” Dimitri croaked. Suddenly a soft hand was handing him a glass of water. As Dimitri moved up to drink down the cold water, he got a slightly better idea of his surroundings. He was in an apartment. The masked archer—Golden Deer—was sitting beside him (mask still on). There were two women in the apartment—unmasked. The one with the angelic voice had messy blue hair tied back into a bun. Her pale skin and downward glance resonated with Dimitri in a familiar way—as if they were once kindred spirits in another life. The other woman had long pink hair, tied into two pigtails on each side of her head. There was a lot of energy coming from her although her pouting made her seem like she was lethargic.

“Oh right, he doesn’t know.” Pink slapped her forehead. “We’ve been tracking down this, like, evil organization. They have a really stupid name, so just ignore that for now. But we figured out that they employed that ugly guy from the art gallery and that they were looking to hunt you and your friends down.”

“I…see.” Dimitri was still confused but he guessed that was the headache that was still throbbing in his head. It was like Pink was speaking words—but Dimitri was struggling to fully comprehend what she was saying.

“Yeah, we don’t really know what they’re after.” Golden Deer sighed as he played with the edge of his shirt. “We just know that they’ve been trying to gather resources from high-profile people in order to do something.”

“…So why they went after me.” Dimitri coughed. “I…they want money. A lot of it.” It wasn’t a complete lie. The truth was that they wanted the family company but there was a lot of money that came with it.

“Hey, Blue & Pink, can I have the room with Lion King here?” Golden Deer suddenly raised his voice. This clearly annoyed the girl with the pink hair as she glared at the masked man. The way she put her hands on her hips eerily reminded Dimitri of the way Ingrid would chastise Felix for ignoring his meals or Sylvain for hitting on another employee.

“This is _my_ apartment—”

“I know, I know. But this is our best lead so far.” The Golden Deer ran a hand through his curls. “Lion King—did they tell you anything about where your friends are?”

“Itha Bridge. Exchange at 23:00.” Dimitri groaned before his eye widened. Did he miss the exchange?! What if they had been alive? What if— “What time is it now!?”

“7 o’clock. In the morning.” The Golden Deer clicked his tongue. “We found you like 8 hours ago.”

“Itha Bridge…” Pink seemed to be lost in her thoughts before Blue tapped her shoulder.

“W-What if we look through the phone records for anything near there? I-I think your brother’s files has that…”

“You’re a genius!” Pink exclaimed. “We can totally cross-reference the numbers from the Lion guy’s phone with the bandit’s phone and check to see if any of their records trace back to somewhere near Itha Bridge.” Dimitri, admittedly, didn’t really understand what the energetic girl was saying but he obliged with her request and gave her the phone number used to text him. It was probably a fake number, Pink had said, but given that the people who were behind this act used _two_ fake numbers increased the chance that they could find _something_.

“Hey, earth to Lion King.” Golden Deer waved a hand in Dimitri’s face. “You still with me, bud?”

“Um, yes.” Dimitri pursed his lips. “I suppose I need to first thank you for saving me. I…was not in the best mindset last night.”

“Yeah.” The Golden Deer rubbed the back of his neck. “One of the first things you did when you woke up was ask us why we saved your life. That’s a bit…that’s different from the usual response you get for saving someone’s life.”

“It’s my fault that my friends are hostages.” Dimitri sighed. “I knew this would happen, but I did nothing to stop them—”

“Hey, buddy, not to cut you off.” The Golden Deer paused and whispered a swear word under his breath. “Sorry, I did just cut you off. But look, I was going to say—you’re really hung up on this idea that you’re responsible for people, right?”

“I—”

“Okay, you can yell and growl at me all you want but first hear me out.” The Golden Deer held up his hands as if offering a peace treaty. “You came after me for recklessly endangering my life. And now it seems like you’re worried that your friends picked the wrong choice or something by helping you out. Am I hearing you right so far?”

Dimitri didn’t have the words to agree with what the masked man was saying. 

“I’ll take your silence as a yes.” The Golden Deer sighed. “Like, don’t get me wrong, that’s really noble of you. But Lion King—you gotta realize that people are going to do what they want. I fight for what I believe in. I assume you do, too. And so do your friends. I don’t know what your story is with them. But I don’t think a bunch of adults would go around risking their lives for nothing.”

“You said something about cleaning Faerghus of its vermin. I’m with you there, buddy. I want a world where good people can come together without worrying about their background. I want a world where people can be themselves without fear of being heckled or belittled.” The Golden Deer continued. “But I _chose_ that path. Like how you chose that path when you started out solo. I’ve done my research on you and I know you weren’t fighting with your clique from the start. It started with you and then Lone Wolf, Philanderer, Lady Knight, and Staunch Shield all joined—in that order, too.”

“I want to believe that your friends are alive and are okay.” The Golden Deer moved closer to Dimitri who didn’t have the energy to move. “But I think before we can even get that far, you have to cut yourself some slack. Your friends knew what they were doing. They knew the risks. But they did it because they believed in something. And honestly, if you ask this outsider’s opinion, I think they did it because they believed in you. That doesn’t mean you’re at fault, though.”

“How…it’s my fault—”

“It’s not.” The Golden Deer remained firm in his stance. “For fucking—Lion King, you’re this hunky mysterious fucking superhero that inspires everyday people to stand up and fight against bad people. You inspire people but you can’t control how they use that inspiration. And you know the thing is that you might blame yourself for inspiring them—but the irony is that your inspiration probably has helped them more than being around you has weighed them down. It’s probably safe to say that their lives have been better _because_ of your inspiration. Bruises, cuts, and hostage situations aside—you’ve given them something similar to like a new lease on life.”

Dimitri, stunned by the words of the masked man beside him, shook his head. He only realized then that tears were streaming down his face. Wiping them, Dimitri inwardly cursed. He looked pathetic. How could he bark orders at this vigilante while he could barely keep his face together to even form a coherent sentence.

“I’ll give you this, Lion King.” Golden Deer got up from his chair. “You can choose to blame yourself for something that isn’t your fault. Or you can use that inspiration and fire you gave to these people to fuel your own strength in rescuing them. Like how you can’t control what they do—I can’t control what you do. But I hope that somewhere in my coffee-fueled rambling that you found some words of wisdom.”

“…Thank you, Golden Deer.” Dimitri was able to get the tears under control as he choked back a relapse of sobs. “I…You have no reason to help me. And I am grateful for your assistance.”

“Hey, Faerghus isn’t gonna change itself. Sometimes it takes an outsider to make a difference.” The Golden Deer actually _ruffled_ Dimitri’s hair like he was some type of child before the masked archer stood up and walked away, leaving Dimitri alone with his thoughts. He could faintly hear Pink and Blue in another room. Pink’s high-pitched voice was squealing, as if she was a young girl at a candy shop.

“Hey, Lion King—you allergic to peaches or Noa fruit?” The Golden Deer’s voice seemed to come from a faraway place. Dimitri, after closing his eyes and focusing on his surroundings, gathered that the archer was probably another room.

“Um, no.”

“Great, I’ll whip up some saghert and cream!” The archer whistled, as if this was a casual conversation among friends. The absurdity of the situation hit Dimitri: less than 12 hours ago, he was arguing that this solo vigilante should be stopped before he hurts himself. Yet Dimitri was wrong—the archer had friends. And from the way that Dimitri could feel his health returning—capable friends. The archer had managed to rescue Dimitri without sustaining any major injuries himself—another incorrect assumption on Dimitri’s part. And despite the roaring, barking, and yelling—the archer didn’t treat Dimitri like the monster he was.

If Dimitri could be wrong about such seemingly simple concepts…could he be wrong about the path that he was carving for himself? Was there actually hope? Could his friends be alive? Could they actually believe in him and _not_ blame him for their pain? The introduction of these new thoughts scared Dimitri—it was like seeing flames for the first time. But he couldn’t deny the allure that these thoughts had. What if the Golden Deer was right? What if Dimitri was wrong in putting the blame on himself?

“I’m back—hope you didn’t miss me too much.” The Golden Deer returned to the living room of the apartment with two bowls in his hands. He handed one to Dimitri before returning to the seat he had used before when speaking with Dimitri. “I’m a pretty good chef, if I say so myself.”

“I…” Dimitri took a spoonful of the seemingly sweet dish and scooped it into his mouth. “I-It’s delicious.”

“I dunno why, but I get the sense that you’re somehow lying to me.” The masked man grinned. Dimitri inwardly wondered if this caped crusader could read through Dimitri and realize that the blond couldn’t taste food. “But I won’t push it since you’re eating. That’s a start.”

“You said you were…an outsider. Are you not from Faerghus?” Dimitri was surprised with hos quickly he finished the sweet dish prepared by the archer. When he thought about it again—the last time he even ate was last night before he slammed his fist on the table like a dramatic—

“Nope.” The man’s grin faltered for a moment. “I hope you can respect that I can’t tell you _where_ I’m from. But I think I’ve done enough to earn your trust.”

“…And my respect.” Dimitri whispered. “I…Perhaps I was wrong about you. I…I’m so used to carrying around the responsibility of everyone on my shoulders. You were this unreadable presence. And it irritated me.”

“I’m honored that you couldn’t categorize me into one of your many mental filing cabinets, Lion King.” The Golden Deer chortled. “And hey, winning your respect is a pretty good deal for me.”

There were a hundred questions at the tip of Dimitri’s tongue. Where did the man learn archery? How did he know how to use tactics like the “stink bomb” so effectively? Where was he from? Why was he in Faerghus? Despite seeming so open and non-chalant, Dimitri realized that the man was like his mask: gaudy on the exterior, but hidden, nonetheless. The superficial appearances did nothing but further beguile Dimitri.

“Alright Deer Lord! You owe me take-out for the next five days. We found a few possible empty warehouses that could be holding the Blue Lions.” Pink reappeared from the hallway with Blue at her side. Golden Deer pumped his fist in the air, exclaiming loudly for someone who was awake so early in the morning. “The numbers were—unsurprisingly—fake numbers. But the idiot who sent them used the _same_ email address to register those fake numbers on one of those stupid apps, ya know? So we looked at the username of that email and found some postings on the Dark Web with a similar username. After using that de-encryption software I stole from my brother, we found their public key encryption algorithm and saw that their shipping address was in Itha—near the docks.”

“Was the address…not enough to pinpoint them?” Dimitri looked up from his empty bowl.

“He looks like such a cute kitten!” Pink giggled until Dimitri frowned. “Oh, right, serious mode. So typically when people sell stuff or post stuff on the Dark Web, they give a general idea for their location. It helps for meet-ups and escrow purposes.”

“I’m…not following, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I think all you need to worry about is that we have some clues. We have about fifteen hours to track down these guys.” Golden Deer beamed like he had just discovered a big secret.

“I would not want to endanger you by bringing you along.” Dimitri tried to stand again before a wave of nausea hit him. Blue hurried over to help Dimitri sit back down on the sofa. “Ugh…why do I feel so weak.”

“T-The painkillers…I’m sorry.” Blue fidgeted with the ends of her blouse nervously as if she had admitted to some heinous crime.

“No…I should be thanking you for your support.” Dimitri sighed. “I…am still not used to…this.”

“This?” Pink cocked her head.

“My friends and I are…bonded through pain. We get along. Syl—Philanderer is quite the jester himself—”

“He seems like the hottest, to be—”

“Pink!”

“Oop, sorry!”

“He would probably like you.” Dimitri chuckled before turning his gaze back to his boots. “We…we wear our masks because it’s to hide the pain that we carry on our shoulders. All of us—we like to think that the mask that we wear is the ones at night. But I think the truth is that this mask is our real face. The face that we wear in the day—when we work and when we act like functional members of society—that’s our real mask.”

“That’s depressing.” Pink commented.

“I…suppose it is.” Dimitri found Pink’s bluntness to be similar to Felix’s. It was much warmer—but it was still that sharp pinpointing diction that could pop through any façade.

“I—We could sense a lot of pain from you and your friends.” The Golden Deer massaged his forehead as if he was a student trying to memorize an entire textbook the night before an exam. “I mean, why else would someone go around the city and beat bad guys up? There has gotta be some type of underlying stress there.”

“Is that the closest hint I will receive to your reasons for wearing your mask, Golden Deer?” Dimitri looked up the masked man with a challenging smirk planted on his face. He wasn’t sure where this confidence appeared from, but perhaps the archer’s pompous attitude was infectious. This seemed to earn laughter from Pink and the archer as they gave each other a knowing look—similar to the looks Ingrid would give him during their board meetings.

“Hey, I told you my dreams, buddy.” Golden Deer grinned from ear to ear.

“How do you…with so much ugliness in the world—how do you remain so positive? I’m dumbfounded. Truth be told—your optimism and joviality made my team and I suspect that…”

“I was dumb and in way over my head?” Golden Deer smirked as if he could read Dimitri’s mind. “Maybe that’s what I wanted you and everyone else to think. But, hey, I’ll give you a free confession today. I don’t know if I can say I’ve been through the same shit as you and your friends. But I did grow up in an environment that forced me to think on my feet. Even as a child, I’ve always been seen as…different from those around me. An outsider of sorts. I’ve been resented and hated. There have even been attempts on my life. I don’t believe I’ve earned such treatment, but that’s how it goes for people like me.”

Dimitri was stunned and didn’t know what to really say about this admission from the archer. Pink was uncharacteristically silent as she ran her long nails through her brightly colored hair. Blue somehow seemed even more uncomfortable than usual.

“You…don’t deserve that treatment.” Dimitri urged.

“Can you say the same thing about yourself, buddy?” Golden Deer leaned closer to Dimitri, prompting the paler man to blush at the closeness. “But hey, I didn’t answer your question. I know the harsh facts of reality, right? You can't win a war by leaving your fate in the hands of a god. Only tangible facts can really decide a war. Which side has the most troops, the best tactics, the better organization and planning.”

“You speak truths.” Dimitri nodded.

“So if we’re speaking facts then—wouldn’t you agree that Fodlan is like a newborn? Frail and easily upset. Like a child, it only wants what it’s used to. The world isn’t prepared for change or for things that could easily improve everyone’s life. That’s why the world stays still—it’s too scared to explore the world much like how a child is afraid to grow without a guiding hand.”

“I…I believe what you’re saying.” Dimitri sighed. “I lost my parents at a young age. Despite the mask that I wore to everyone, I was—perhaps am still that lost child searching for some type of comfort in this harsh world.” It didn’t escape Dimitri’s eye that Pink seemed to brighten at that information despite the sad look in her eyes. She quietly pulled out her phone and, as quietly as she could, tapped the screen a few times.

“Hey, now we’re speaking the same stuff.” Golden Deer cheered. “So your question was about why I can see the ugly of the world and still remain so positive. And I guess my answer is because the world’s a baby to me. It’s still so young and immature and naïve. And as frustrating as it can get—I can’t stay mad at a baby. I mean, kids are kinda adorable.”

“That’s…remarkably insightful.” Dimitri conceded. “I…I was always so angry that I couldn’t be stronger as a child. Perhaps if I had been stronger, things would be different. But the way you describe your feelings perhaps makes me reconsider my anger.”

“Unless my sleuthing is wrong, you would never hurt a child. Isn’t that right, Lion King?”

“Correct.”

“So why do you abuse that child you once were?” Golden Deer’s eyes seemed green although Dimitri wasn’t sure if it was the face mask playing a trick on him. “Why can’t you be the guiding moon to lead the child forward instead of the white clouds meant to hide its path?”

“I…don’t know.” Dimitri answered. “I…don’t know.”

“It’s okay.” Blue whispered. “I-I admire your honesty.”

“If we’re on the topic of honesty, I must ask.” Dimitri looked back down at his boots again. “What is the likelihood that my friends are alive?”

“Oh, I can answer this one!” Pink put away her phone and raised her hand as if they were back at school. “Most likely, your friends are alive. I can’t say they’re in a good condition. But the creeps that we’re investigating seem to have a pattern. They don’t kill until they’ve used up every last bit, they could from someone.”

“I…I cannot believe I am sincerely asking this but will you…will you help me save my friends?” Dimitri could hear the start of the voices starting to chide him again. The screeching sounds of laughter as they mocked his weakness. The storming insults and—

“I thought you’d never ask, Lion King.” Golden Deer smiled. And just like that the voices were put at bay again. It was like the golden archer’s words were a light repelling the dark twisted shadows of Dimitri’s mind. “If we’re entering the nest of the snakes, then we’re definitely going to be outnumbered.”

“Like that’s stopped you before.” Pink scoffed.

“But we have some elements to our advantage.” Golden Deer commented aloud as he deftly ignored Pink. “They would never suspect the Deer and Lion combo to exist. They also—despite their best attempts to tail me—know little to nothing about me.”

“That variable could prove to be…significant.” Dimitri tried his best to sound as innovative as the archer but words often failed him.

“Here’s the deal though, Lion King.” Golden Deer sighed. “There’s a saying that when you kill a snake, you have to kill its eggs, too. I know your main mission is to save your friends. But I also have another task at hand.”

“What kind of task?” Dimitri asked.

“I…it’s hard to explain but you’ll see when we get there.” Golden Deer’s face dropped, as if recounting a painful memory. “Just know that If all goes according to plan—you and your friends will be safe and I’ll be lounging back with a martini as the building goes up in flames.”

“What exactly is this…organization?” Dimitri was curious about the switch to brutal tactics that the archer suggested. It seemed so unlike the joviality and positivity that the man exuded earlier.

“Truth is, we don’t know.” Golden Deer shrugged, nodding at Pink who took over the reins of the conversation.

“We call them _Those Who Slither In The Dark_. It’s a fucking stupid name. But they’re involved in a lot of dirty stuff. Experiments, trafficking, kidnapping, hostages, weapon smuggling, you name it. There are even rumors on some forums in the Dark Web that they’re responsible for some of the smaller civil wars going on in international countries.”

“But like any storm, they need the right amount of wind to fuel their damage.” Golden Deer explained. “Which is where you and your team come into the picture. Apprehending you guys would serve a double purpose for them. Not only would it make it easier for them to target Faerghus and all of its power. But from what you’ve shared with us—it seems like you have some considerable resources tied to your daytime mask.”

“Yes.” Dimitri cared not to share anymore details.

“They’re evil bastards, sure, but they still need money and stuff to operate.” The Golden Deer continued to explain. “So what better way to achieve their goals than to apprehend the _real_ law enforcement superheroes in Faerghus and siphon some money and resources their way?”

“And from what you say…” Dimitri stroked his chin. “If they are given such power and resources—only death and destruction can come from them.” Pink suddenly cleared her throat as she carefully laid her eyes on Dimitri. Even with his mask, he felt that the pink haired girl’s piercing gaze was reading something about him.

“Have you heard of the Tragedy of Duscur?” Pink asked, her normal singing voice replaced with a more serious tenor. Frozen, Dimitri did his best to not stare back at his boots. If he acted too abnormal, would that give away his cover?

“…Yes.” Dimitri spoke through gritted teeth, as if the answer pained him. “It’s…a disgusting mark on Faerghus’s history.”

“Well, the rumor is that this group was the one who orchestrated it.” Pink didn’t break her gaze on Dimitri. “They allegedly used it to try and destabilize Faerghus. Have you heard of the sole survivor of that tragedy—that hot brooding prince guy, Dimitri?”

“Yes.” Dimitri uttered. “He is…a young entrepreneur, not a prince, I believe.”

“Well it’s all just a rumor.” Pink started to play with one of her hair-ties. “But the evil group here might have conspired with someone at Blaiddyd House to complete their goals. They wanted access to the company’s wide network of resources.”

“T-That’s…impossible.” Dimitri did his best to keep his jaw from dropping. “T-The Blaiddyd House is…they’re known for being so philanthropic and loyal to the community.”

“True.” The Golden Deer hummed. “But even the strongest and most beautiful tree can have one bad apple.”

“Look, this is getting pretty heavy for a nearly nine o’clock in the morning conversation.” Pink yawned. “And if we need to get ready for that battle tonight, then we should all rest up.”

“Will you two be joining us?” Dimitri glanced at the thin stature of Blue.

“Oh heavens no!” Pink giggled. “I just drive the getaway car and Blue’s on standby in case our prince here needs any medical attention.”

“You act like you haven’t punched a dozen bodybuilders before.” Golden Deer chuckled.

“Hey, can I now have a word alone with the Blue Lion? It seems like everyone’s gotten some time alone with him but me.” Pink pouted. Golden Deer and Blue seemed as confused by her request as Dimitri did but they surprisingly obliged and left the room to figure out schematics of the warehouses. Once the duo were out of earshot, Pink hopped on the couch beside Dimitri and smiled sweetly. Somehow, Dimitri knew that the innocent act was that—an _act_.

“Golden Deer is one of my closest friends.” Pink smiled despite the threatening aura of her voice. “And I know you have some temper issues. So here’s the deal, _Dimitri_ —”

“Excuse me?!” Dimitri wanted to raise his voice but he risked alerting Blue and Golden Deer about this unexpected conversation.

“Look, I’ll keep your secret. I’m good at keeping secrets.” Pink grinned. “But if you backstab Golden Deer tonight—then I have no hesitation in exposing you and your friends.”

“I…I understand.” Dimitri struggled to defend himself but realized that Pink knew _exactly_ who he was and that her earlier words were as intentional as they were provocative.

“You should get your rest for tonight. Can’t have our big scary lion getting cold feet before the big show.” Pink stood up from the couch as if she hadn’t just blackmailed the man who was nearly twice her size. Dimitri had to admit that her courage and loyalty to the Golden Deer only impressed him. While it did terrify him to think of the true ramifications of how far the pink-haired girl would go for her friends, Dimitri hoped he would never have to discover that limit.

* * *

The mission was in place. Dimitri had returned to his loft and made some calls with his personal lawyers. The Golden Deer had guessed that Dimitri was going to be watched closely to see if he came through with the groups demands. While the lawyers were surprised to be met with cups of chamomile tea, Dimitri guessed that he had shaken off any suspicion that he was defecting to the plans of the terrorist organization.

Some questions did haunt him. What if Pink was right? Could someone have helped this group lead to the catastrophe that damaged everyone in Dimitri’s life? If so—Dimitri had no qualms about letting them burn in hell. He would do anything in his power to demolish them for the pain and sorrow they caused. But Dimitri also knew that he wouldn’t be able to get those answers tonight—he had to focus on rescuing his friends.

By the twenty second hour of the day—as the sun was long set and the moon sparkled ominously in the sky—Dimitri suited up and headed to the Itha Bridge. If he recalled correctly, his father’s brother once lived around here. Was the location supposed to be salt on the wound? Trying to keep his focus, Dimitri held the briefcase of blank papers close to him. He carefully made his way to the landmark and—

“ _Hi Lion King_!” Pink’s loud-pitched voice screeched in his ear, prompting Dimitri to wince. “ _We’re nearby. Blue and I are going to wait until someone approaches you and then try to figure out which warehouse they came from. I’ll direct you from there so you can join Golden Deer._ ”

“Sounds good.” Dimitri whispered back into the receiver. Taking a deep breath, he marched forward to the edge of the bridge. No one seemed to be there. Was it a trap? Was it a game? Was he wrong?

“You’ve come.” A slithery voice hissed at Dimitri. As if born from the shadows, a cloaked figure stepped out into a dimly lit circle of light, courtesy of a struggling street post. Holding the briefcase close to him, Dimitri swallowed thickly.

_You’re the big lion. They want control over you. Act like you’re submissive—make them feel confident. They’ll make more mistakes that way._ The Golden Deer had advised Dimitri before parting ways. Dimitri adjusted the collar sticking out from under his armor, as if he was a schoolkid preparing for an inspection.

“W-Where are my friends?!” Dimitri pleaded. “I brought what you wanted. The drafts are all there. All you need to do is fill in the name of the benefactor.”

“Hand me the briefcase.” The cloaked man croaked.

“Show me evidence that my friends are alive. Or take me to them.” Dimitri tried to balance seeming afraid while seeming confident. The cloaked man stiffened and looked around, as if expecting someone to pop out from the shadows.

“And if I don’t?” The cloaked man’s hand fell slightly from his large sleeve. Dimitri stifled his gasp as he saw pale pale pale white skin and long, brittle fingernails. Was he even speaking…to a human?!

“Then this briefcase will be thrown into the Itha River.” Dimitri urged. “I presume my friends and I will be dead but at least the company won’t be in your benefactor’s name.”

“Hmph.” The cloaked man played with a loose fabric from his robe. “Fine. Follow me. And if you are up to any tricks, I will not hesitate to kill you and your friends.” Dimitri wordlessly followed the man over the bridge. Pink and Blue had been right—one of the warehouses that they had suspected seemed to be the one that was being used by the organization. As the unlikely duo walked in silence, Dimitri wondered if this was the best time to ask the questions at the forefront of his mind.

“Did your people assassinate my family?” Dimitri asked as blankly as he could. He heard Pink sharply exhale from her speaker. Fortunately, Dimitri was only connected to her headset so that Blue and Golden Deer couldn’t hear him. The cloaked man was caught slightly off-guard by the question based on the way he immediately stopped his movements. The bright moonlight only accentuated the inhumane features that the man possessed as he removed his hood. Dimitri immediately felt nauseated. The pale-skinned old man had a huge, unsightly forehead that did little to hide the bulging veins popping out. His right-eye was replaced with some type of unsightly prosthetic. The gray, pushed-back hair seemed vile and unkempt, as if it housed a nest of rats.

“Yes.” The man revealed a toothy grin. “All so that our prize can acquire the strength they needed. All for a purpose…” Dimitri’s hand clenched tightly around the briefcase as he fought the urge to break character and kill the man who stood in front of him. The voices of the dead danced around him, taunting him for his inaction. They laughed at his cowardice and mocked his conviction for idly standing by.

_“So why do you abuse that child you once were?” Golden Deer’s eyes seemed green although Dimitri wasn’t sure if it was the face mask playing a trick on him. “Why can’t you be the guiding moon to lead the child forward instead of the white clouds meant to hide its path?”_

Closing his eye, Dimitri let out a sharp exhale. He had to keep his calm. Somehow, he could sense Pink’s hesitation as no words were shared between the two men.

“There will be no salvation for you and your kind.” Dimitri uttered. The pale man stared at Dimitri with a quizzical look before grinning again—was Dimitri’s anger and anguish so amusing to the man?!

“It’s only preparation to cleanse Fodlan and bring forth our salvation.” The man croaked before wobbling toward a fortified door. A bulky man suddenly appeared and Dimitri could feel his heart pumping with the idea of punching the guard and snapping the older man’s neck. As the old man conversed with the bouncer—seemingly in a snake-like language—Dimitri pursed his lips and wondered if Golden Deer was nearby. The fight was about to begin, if Dimitri had remembered the tactics correctly.

“You may enter. Only if you give me that briefcase.” The cloaked man nodded toward Dimitri’s briefcase. Glancing around, Dimitri huffed.

“There’s still a body of water within my reach. Play your hand too sharply and none of us will win tonight.” Dimitri barked. The bouncer seemed to march forward but the cloaked man raised his pale, bony hand to stop him from likely taking the briefcase by force.

“The lion wants to play.” The cloaked man hissed. “We will indulge his fantasies a little longer. Follow me.” Dimitri followed the man into the warehouse, expecting to see a dark and dusty ambiance. Instead, Dimitri was horrified to see glowing lights and the smell—was that blood?! Burnt flesh?! Decay? Dimitri couldn’t identify it but the smell itself was nauseating. It was as if he was walking into a tomb of corpses. He could hear rodents crawling across the cold cement, their overgrown carcasses plump from whatever innocent lives they fed upon. The frigid dampness only triggered every muscle in Dimitri’s body to turn around and run for his life. If there was a hell—Dimitri guessed he was walking into it right now. It made sense why Golden Deer wanted to detonate the place. This was a stain against everything beautiful in the world.

There was a crawling feeling moving up the back of his neck as Dimitri followed the man into the crypt. There were portable prison cells, it seemed like, housing dozens of unconscious bodies as if they were simple livestock. There was a loud, blood-curling scream in the distance to which the old man seemed unfazed. Interestingly, the warehouse became brighter as they walked further. It was like the walls had this eerie glowing blue sketch on them—like an ancient sigil. The pulsating light almost seemed alive—or was it a rhythm and a warning to escape while he could?

The blood in the air—the metallic tinge that teased Dimitri’s nostrils—only heightened his fear. But when the man stopped moving in front of a closed cell, Dimitri let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Your friends are in here.”

“Open the door.”

The cloaked man sighed before placing his palm against the door. It was some type of advanced technological device that could read the man’s palm-print. It was like straight-out of one of those sci-fi movies that Sylvain boasted about watching. Were these people…aliens? Was that why they were so removed from humanity?

True to his word, Dimitri saw the slumped bodies of his friends. Based on the poor lighting, Dimitri could hardly see any movement but he first noticed Dedue’s large chest moving ever so slightly—as if any sudden movement would awaken a nightmare. His friends were alive. Dimitri felt like crying—he was wrong again and he could never have been happier.

“The briefcase, young lion.” The cloaked man held out his hand. Dimitri paused, waiting for Pink to give him the signal.

_Fallen Star._ Pink whispered. That was it. The codeword. Dimitri suddenly launched the briefcase into the older man’s chest, pushing him back. There was some more commotion as some guards were alerted to the movement. Dimitri didn’t care—he ran inside the chamber and started shaking his friends.

“D-Dimitri…” Dedue’s voice was the first he heard. “R-Run…while you can…”

“No.” Dimitri shook his head, fighting back the tears. “I’m not leaving anywhere without you all.”

“Is that…the boar?” Felix sounded dehydrated and fatigued. But his sharp eyes made contact with Dimitri, simultaneously berating him and praising him like Felix always did.

“Why did you come here…alone.” Ingrid groaned, her voice as raspy as the rest. “They wanted that…it was a trap.”

“I’m not alone.” Dimitri exhaled. That caught Sylvain’s attention as the redhead weakly moved his head toward Dimitri.

“Finally got laid?” Sylvain joked. Blushing, Dimitri scoffed and helped his friends get up on their feet. They were clearly injured and not equipped to fight. They would be easy targets for the guards—the guards with footsteps getting louder. Was Golden Deer here? What if he had betrayed Dimitri? What if—

“Strategy in motion!” The Golden Deer’s familiar voice echoed throughout the chamber. Dimitri smiled as he realized that the archer had managed to disarm the front guard and use the predicted schematics to blend into the eerie warehouse. Now it was just a race to escape.

Dimitri urged his friends to run as fast as they could toward the exit. Pink had a van ready for them. The Blue Lions seemed shocked at the idea that Dimitri was working with other people but they quickly accepted his words when a group of guards appeared around the corner. Shoving his friends along—even with Felix’s urge to fight—Dimitri readied himself for combat. He couldn’t have brought his lance but he had something better—his fists, bloodlust, and the support of a new friend.

With his seemingly inhumane strength, Dimitri punched through the guards as their bullets bounced off his armor. Dedue had been creative in designing the lightweight but effectively bulletproof gear. From the corner, Dimitri sensed arrows flying in all different directions, likely dispatching guards lurking in the shadows. The older man that had led him here was still on the ground but Dimitri noticed an arrow sticking through his throat.

“Hey handsome.” The Golden Deer suddenly dropped by Dimitri. The shock nearly made the bigger man strike down the archer but he managed to collect himself.

“Enough of your foolishness! I…wait a moment. You are trying to anger me, is that it?” Dimitri hissed as he punched through another guard with his gauntlets.

“Saw right through me, did you?” Golden Deer chuckled before shooting down another incoming guard. “Hey, what are you doing after all of this?”

“Now is not the time to—” Dimitri stopped himself as he grabbed two smaller-looking guards and smashed their skulls together. “How can you be so carefree when we’re being attacked?!”

“I’m just saying. You deserve to treat yourself after this.” Golden Deer replied after a few minutes of fighting close combat with his bow. Dimitri wouldn’t admit it aloud but the way that the archer used his bow as if it was a blade or spear impressed him. Before Dimitri could come up with a smart reply, however, one of the guards managed to land a bullet on the archer beside him.

“Agh!” The Golden Deer yelled, stumbling back as Dimitri caught him. Shit.

“You’re hurt—can you still fight, Golden Deer?”

“You barely snatch me from the jaws of death…this won’t weigh me down.” Golden Deer was probably winking underneath his mask. In the oddest moment of the night, Dimitri wondered how the other vigilante’s lips would feel against his own as they panted heavily from the injury. Something made Dimitri turn _feral_ as if someone had taken something that was his. He couldn’t describe the feeling very well but it was the spark he needed to continue breaking through the throngs of guards.

“Wow, my knight in shining armor carrying me out of there.” Golden Deer winced. It was only then that Dimitri saw that the man was bleeding through his costume. There had to be more than one bullet wound.

“You didn’t tell me that—”

“Hey, we’re almost done. Remember—you gotta look forward to that treat, m’kay?”

“Golden Deer, this is no time for—”

“I’m fine!” The archer pleaded. “These bastards won’t be.”

“Wait…we can’t blow up the warehouse.” Dimitri stopped. This seemed to attract the archer’s attention as he whipped his head to likely glare at Dimitri.

“Are you backing out of our plan?!”

“There are innocent prisoners here, Golden Deer!” Dimitri pleaded. “If we blow up this place—they’ll die, too.” There was some swearing underneath the archer’s breath as he started to lean against Dimitri for support. The curls, the smell—there was something so soothing and familiar yet alluring and mysterious about this man. Although Dimitri guessed that now was not the best time to contemplate his odd feelings for the vigilante as they were nearly escaping this hellhole.

“Fine.” Golden Deer sighed. “We won’t. But the moment we walk out that door, we’re calling some type of law enforcement. These freaks—knowing the way they work—they’ll somehow escape before they can be caught.”

“Well…then we’ll just have to continue working together to hunt them down.” Dimitri whispered as they edged closer to the exit. Were his friends safe? He saw multiple disarmed and immobilized guards but none of the bodies on the floor seemed familiar to him. The comment Dimitri made seemed to have amused the other vigilante who chortled quite unprofessionally.

“It almost sounds like we’re about to have a second date or something.” Golden Deer chuckled. “Hey, that’s what you should do. Ask someone out. Someone who’s caught your eye.”

“Now is not the time for jokes.” Dimitri coughed. They made it. They were outside. Pink’s van was within sight and based on the open doors to the back entrance of the truck—Blue was starting to attend to his friends. They did it. Dimitri couldn’t believe his luck. His friends were alive. He was alive. His newfound ally was alive. His company and father’s legacy was safe.

“Hey, big guy, not to take you out of your thoughts because you do look quite dashing against the moonlight, but, uh, could you take me to Mari—Blue, please.” Golden Deer pleaded as Dimitri gasped. Mentally berating himself for losing focus, Dimitri carried the other vigilante to the truck. As sirens started to blare in the distance, Dimitri hopped into the truck with the other heroes. Pink drove with a ferocious speed that rivaled Ingrid’s abilities. Dimitri oddly wondered about the idea of their teams merging.

“Hey…we did it.” Golden Deer panted as Blue stitched him up under some covers. All the heroes were sitting back against a surface of the inside of the truck with bottles of water or snacks and ice packs and other amenities.

“You…saved us. We owe you our lives, Golden Deer.”

“Hey, don’t forget about us!” Pink cried out from the front. Her voice immediately attracted Sylvain’s attention as he flashed his trademark grin. Felix only seemed to moan for more painkillers.

* * *

At Dimitri’s request, Hilda had dropped off the masked heroes at the hospital that Mercedes owned. Despite being in full costume, Dimitri and his friends carried themselves to a _very_ surprised receptionist and requested to see Dr. von Martritz. The blonde physician shortly appeared with a twinkle in her eyes as if she had aced a test. Her medical care was quick and efficient as was her feigned surprise when the police showed up, asking to see the masked vigilantes. While the group escaped through the exit that she had whispered about, Dimitri heard her soft voice echo in the hallway.

“I have _no_ idea where those masked people could have escaped. I pray for their safety and well-being however. If you would like, we have some tea in the staff room to calm your nerves…” Dr. von Martritz ushered the bewildered police away from the exit.

The next few days went by as smoothly as one could hope after being held hostage and being forced to nearly hand over their father’s legacy. Dimitri was able to excuse himself and his friends from any meetings for the next few days as they recuperated. Rodrigue seemed suspicious, but there was a comforting tone to his voice as Dimitri requested this over the phone. The Blue Lions stayed together in Dimitri’s loft and attended to each other. To Dimitri’s surprise—no one blamed him—not even Felix. If anything, Dimitri was shocked to hear how much his friends blamed themselves. It took every breath he had to convince them that it wasn’t their fault. He felt like he was channeling the energy of a certain golden archer.

The biggest downside to the events that followed the siege was the lack of attention on the Golden Deer from the media. It was as if he had disappeared. Dimitri inwardly wondered if he was okay. He had been so worried that he took the path back to Pink’s apartment only to find it empty and deserted. Something rubbed Dimitri the wrong way—was Golden Deer okay? If something had happened, Dimitri assumed that Pink would have contacted him since she knew his identity.

Despite searching far and wide for a few days, no records seemed to pop up that would lead Dimitri to locating his ally. Perhaps the archer was recovering? After all, he had lost a lot of blood. The thought of the archer perishing haunted Dimitri—but the reassurance that someone as talented as Blue being around helped stall those thoughts. Still, there was this ache in Dimitri’s chest as he wondered if he would ever run into the benevolent archer again. What if the archer had moved on from Faerghus? What if the archer and his friends had found a new mission?

_“Hey, that’s what you should do. Ask someone out. Someone who’s caught your eye.”_

Distracting himself with one of the last sentences he heard from the archer, Dimitri bit his lip. He was being ridiculous. He had no time for dates or a social life beyond his professional career. Yet…as he glanced at the resting bodies of his friends—maybe they would be okay if he took off a night or two. Dimitri grabbed his normal phone—his vigilante phone tucked away in his room and texted a familiar number.

**Dimitri:** Do you have what I want?

**Mockingbird:** So ordered, so done.

There was a file attached to the other person’s message which made Dimitri feel slightly giddy. It was like he was a child again—but instead of mourning his losses and grieving—he was excited and enthused for the future.

**Dimitri:** Hello. It’s Dimitri Blaiddyd. Forgive me for reaching out like this, but I cannot deny that I’ve been captivated by you since the night of the art gallery. I was wondering if you were still in town and if you would like to meet for dinner.

After a few moments, Dimitri’s phone buzzed. With a smile on his face, Dimitri leaned back as he re-read the message over and over again.

**Claude von Riegan:** I would be honored, Dimitri :)

For the first time in many nights, Dimitri felt more human than beast. Perhaps there was hope for him after all…


End file.
